Firedeath
by Corrinne Blackwell
Summary: A new plot arises in the Inkworld,coming from the despised Orpheus. From chosen destiny, only Dustfinger can save them. Can a relaxed, unwilling Fire-Dancer save an entire world from a new, strong army and the darkest, most self-centered soul?
1. Dawning Plot

A darkened sunset had almost completely covered the skies now, though you couldn't see it well from the barely written world. Only the ground was firm under the frustrated writer's feet. A small silhouette of the glass man, Ironstone, was running towards the silhouette of his master. "Master?" he seemed to pant. The color of the glass man was now a very dull one. Ironstone himself did not like being this color. "What do you want, Ironstone?!" Orpheus snapped. "I thought you were supposed to be stealing writing material for me!?"

Ironstone curtly bowed his head. "Most certainly." He sighed. "I just had an ide-"

"And just because you have an idea, you should stop working!?" Orpheus grabbed the glass man tightly. "You'll be lucky if your idea is any good, I could throw you out the window right now!" Ironstone nodded. He wondered if this was what his brother, Jasper, felt like in the presence of Orpheus. "You are mad at the Bluejay… for killing the Adderhead and driving you out…"

"You are only telling me things that I already know!" Orpheus dropped the glass man onto the rotting wood table he was working at. Ironstone brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder and continued. "They are quite peaceful now; it has been about a year after all." Orpheus tried hard not to get angry at Ironstone. At least, not yet. "You could easily plan a surprise attack and gain your position back." Orpheus liked how Ironstone thought sometimes. The only problem was that Ironstone never thought things through. "And how are we supposed to do _that_, when we barely have a world to stand upon?" Ironstone nodded. "I could easily steal some of Fenoglio's writing to… support you, if you wish."

Orpheus chuckled darkly. "And you think that will help?" Ironstone shrugged and slowly backed up. If his master was going to be in wrath, he didn't want to go near him. Ironstone slowly nodded. "You _have _been having a little trouble, writing up this new world." Ironstone shook warily about his words. Orpheus glared silently at the glass man, but kept his temper down. "You could use his words to make a world even better than his. Then, you can stealthily build an army…"

Orpheus still grimaced, but an evil smile was subduing him on the inside. Orpheus grabbed Ironstone once more. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" Orpheus had to admit, it was fun to see Ironstone tremble at his grasp sometimes. "I-I thought it would be better when the people of the Inkworld," (Dare he say that name in his master's presence.) "Seem peaceful enough to not expect the attack, master." Now a dark grin spread across Orpheus' wide face. "You're lucky that it is a good plan, Ironstone," Ironstone gulped. "If I didn't have a better instinct, I'd throw you at a lion." Orpheus gently set Ironstone down and then turned. "This is brilliant! I could rule this world _and_ Fenoglio's!" The wood clunked beneath Orpheus as he started to pace in thought around the pathetic, tiny room.

"The Bluejay could be the 'hero' to Fenoglio's world, but he will be destroyed under my palms!"

"Um… master?" Orpheus turned abruptly and frowned. "Can't you see I'm busy in plot?" Ironstone nodded. "Yes, but as I do steal away in the… in Fenoglio's world, I hear rumors. The Bluejay is retired."

An explosion of anger spread through Orpheus. "He can't be retired! Who can he be?" Ironstone rose from his position and leaped onto another countertop. "He wishes to be called the name he was born with, master, Mortimer. He wishes to stay a simple bookbinder."

Orpheus stomped his foot heavily. "I _must_ make him fight!" _But will he really be threatened by someone who can't think up an effortless sky?_ "Out of suggestion, again, maybe you could make another soul the hero, one who the Bluejay cannot turn down to fight with." A short moment passed as Orpheus thought. _Now, who am I mad at AND who the Bluejay will fight for?_ Orpheus, now more lightly, paced around the room again. Ironstone watched him, as still as a statue, with wide eyes.

"Ah-hah!" Orpheus shouted. Ironstone leaped in surprise. "The Bluejay may be retired as it is, but I know one name that this soul can never retire from…"

"Who sir?" Orpheus smirked. "Now, whom do we hate? Who turned his back on me when I did something for him that he is grateful for?"

Ironstone's glance lowered, in shame that he had no clue who his master was talking about.

"Fire-Dancer, you moron!" Ironstone smiled darkly. "He is quite unaware." Orpheus rushed to his desk once more. "Fetch me some parchment, I must begin immediately!" In a matter of moments, Ironstone ran into a cupboard and ran back to his master with his arms full of new parchment. Orpheus grabbed a piece from Ironstone's grasp and flattened it out in front of him.

The darkened soul of Orpheus dipped the pen into the inkwell and placed it onto the parchment. _The new sky was filled of a blurred dusk that was now taking over both of the neighboring worlds. A pile of gleaming armor shone brightly in the moonlight. The armor was for an army that was only to be soon built. As the souls of the new, strong warriors were conjuring, the heart of the Inkworld's hero was beating in fear…_

Ironstone's eyes widened in building excitement.

Though Orpheus' words were becoming true around him and the small glass man, they knew not that their chosen hero was prepared. Their chosen 'hero' did not know this yet, but his soul was truly ready for fulfilling a prophecy yet to be bestowed upon him.


	2. Unexpected Visit

Only a week had passed from the start of Orpheus' plotting. Dawn had not yet awoken the inhabitants of the ever so peaceful Inkworld. All except one was still soundly asleep and awaiting the boring day that would come next. Her long dark hair was not pinned up as it normally had been. No special occasion was happening, or anything out of the ordinary, but she still waited for the familiar silhouette to rise from the horizon and towards the farm.

She wished that he could come sooner. But business was business. She sighed and glanced towards the dew-stained ground. She always worried about him, even though he always came back without a scratch on him, (besides a bite mark or two from his loyal pet.) Soon, the sun was rising above the horizon. It was a deep orange this morning. This only made her too longing for him. Luckily for her, as the sun was seen, so was her husband.

Though Dustfinger was usually tired from the performances he did, he always rushed towards Roxane's beloved farm. He could already see the growing smile that dawned upon her face. Dustfinger tried not to gasp for breath as he slowly walked to Roxane's side.

"Roxane." He greeted warmly. Roxane immediately kissed him passionately. "You better be paid well or enjoy this to stay up all night." Dustfinger shrugged in reply. Gwin poked his head through the opening of Dustfinger's backpack and yawned.

"Either way that is, I missed you." He wrapped his arm around her and gradually brought her closer to his side. "As did I." she sighed. Her warm gaze still focused solely on the sunrise. "It reminds of your fire. It blazes the same color and the same way." Dustfinger looked into her eyes. "But there's emptiness to it." She finished, now raising her gaze. Dustfinger's hand reached out to her face. His index finger slowly lifted her chin up. "I will not leave you soon."

A grin began to spread on her face. "We should get inside now, before we awaken the fairies." A warm chuckle escaped Dustfinger. "Yes. But let's enjoy this a few moments longer." The cold wind still swept upon the many fields of grass. The city of Ombra could be seen ever so easily as the piercing sunlight shone brightly overhead now. "I feel the emptiness still." Roxane was to interrupt nature's beauty. "What is the emptiness?" Dustfinger pulled her closer.

"Your passion for it is not there." Dustfinger grinned and kissed her before the sun fully went up into the sky.

****

Dustfinger sat at the table now casually. "Have I missed much?" he asked in worry as he took a sip of some rum. Roxane shook her head. A small thought passed her mind. "Well, Brianna came by yesterday."

Dustfinger looked the other way and exhaled sharply. "I swear, that girl _knows_ I'm not here!" Roxane chuckled as she settled herself in another chair. "No. She loves you, Dustfinger. It's whenever Violante lets her roam. She has no control over that." A ray of sunlight shone through the window and onto Dustfinger's face. He lifted his coat to shade the light. "What'd she come over for?"

"Nothing much really. Just to talk, I suppose." Jehan came running into the room. "Hey mom." Roxane kissed his forehead. "Morning, Jehan." She smoothed his hair, which only ended up being ruffled up again by Jehan.

As Dustfinger examined the boy he realized much. Jehan was no longer just the young boy he only met two years ago. Jehan looked more like a teenager now, but his childish looks had not completely left him yet. To Dustfinger's unfortunate dismay, he looked more like his father than Roxane.

"Am I going to tend to the plants again?" Jehan asked, almost expressionless. Roxane nodded. "Not for long though. But do mind the fire flowers Dustfinger made." Jehan nodded loyally and gave Dustfinger a wary glance before he ran out the door and to the fields.

"Did Brianna say anything?" Dustfinger immediately changed the subject to a happier matter. Roxane nodded for a few moments. "Oh, yes, plenty for me to hear."

"Like what?" Dustfinger's made its way through his tangled ginger hair gradually. The soft symphony of bugs began to hum outside the small house; apparently the dawn had awoken them now. Gwin settled himself in Dustfinger's lap. Roxane opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. She was wondering how to say it. "Do you know the blacksmith's boy?"

Many moments of pure silence erupted from time. Not even the cold winds or the bugs made this silence break. Dustfinger had a dark feeling about what Roxane was telling him but he shook his head. "I know who the blacksmith is though…" Roxane's eyes filled with worry. It was a distant worry though, not for him or her, but for Brianna. "Well, whether you know him or not, he's taken a fancy for Brianna."

"And by that you mean…" Dustfinger urged her on. "He's been giving her flowers and flirting with her. At least, that's what Brianna tells me."

Suspicion marked all of Dustfinger's face. But he let his anger go. "Brianna's not a girl anymore; she's turning into a lady." Roxane said, as if she had heard his thoughts. Thoughtful expressions let her smile to him. Dustfinger turned his chair to get a view of the morning lights and the clear picture of the Inkworld. "Its days like this where I miss Rosanna." Roxane walked gracefully to his side and placed her arm over his shoulder. Dustfinger did the same. "Me too, Dustfinger." Roxane ended. "Me too."

****

A slow hour passed and the two souls still remained in the small house. Many more happy gracious souls were roaming outside at this time, among them Jehan, but nevertheless, they remained in their places. Not much conversation had gone on. The thought of Rosanna lingered in the home in sorrow.

This was all only to be interrupted by an abrupt, unfamiliar and loud knocking. As one they jumped in surprise. "'You invite anyone over?" Dustfinger asked quietly. Roxane shook her head. Dustfinger let a small flame arise in his palm. "Come on Gwin." The martin bared his teeth and loyally followed his master.

The knocking started again. "What do you want?!" He shouted. The voice that was replied was sort of muted because of the door, but a familiar comforting sound could be heard. "Dustfinger, it's me! No need to be frightened!" The fire that was once in Dustfinger's hand disappeared with the will of the wind. "Come on in, Prince." He unlocked the door and walked away.

The Black Prince chuckled as he entered. He nodded his head curtly to Roxane. "Sorry if I scared you or anything, ma'am." Roxane put her hands on her hips. "I'm not as delicate as you think, Black Prince." The Prince nodded. "You know I know, Roxane. Mind if I sit?" he asked pointing to a chair.

"Make yourself at home." He sat casually. "But I'm not here to sit and chat. I'm here on business." Now Dustfinger caught the Prince's glance. It wasn't a warm one, but it wasn't a cold one either. "I'm sorry if you planned this evening together or something, but I've got to take Dustfinger with me for private matters." Dustfinger's glance roamed from the Prince to Roxane. "How long do you plan to take him for?" her voice sounded saddened indeed.

"The earliest is noon, but I can't make any promises." The Prince's voice sounded distracted. Dustfinger inhaled. "What's so important that Roxane can't hear?"

"I'm a afraid I can't even tell you that." He replied. "I can't even tell you until we get back to camp with the Blue Jay." Dustfinger glanced at his love one last time. Roxane walked closer to him and kissed him. "Good luck." Dustfinger kissed her and placed something in her right hand before he left.

So the two rose and made their way out of the house, one of them still in total confusion. They made their way through the fields and towards Mortimer Folchart's humble home, where he was not expecting them either. Roxane sighed sadly and looked into her hand. Dustfinger had left her a sad looking flower. Roxane hoped everything was alright; she did not want to lose him again. Her heart would stop beating for him if it could.


	3. Secretive Determination

(I do not own ANY of the Inkheart characters mentioned here!! I am not Cornelia Funke!!)

The day was still young by the time the Black Prince and Dustfinger set to find Mortimer. It wouldn't be long now before they reached the Folchart household. Gwin was draped over Dustfinger's neck like a fur scarf. "That animal is never without you, is he Fire Dancer?" the Prince chuckled. Soon after, Gwin blinked sleep away from his eyes and growled subconsciously. "Unfortunately, it's more time than with Roxane." Dustfinger's hand reached over the martin's forehead.

No Trees were needed to be dodged; the open plain welcomed the two traveling men. Stilled sounds had rallied up again in the far distance. A mix of laughter, chirps and any other uplifting sounds were included. "So what's so important that Roxane can't hear?" Dustfinger asked the Prince. A recently polished knife emerged from the Prince's pocket. His dark eyes examined the blade and handle before it was sheathed again. "Again, I cannot tell you until you, the Bluejay and I return to the Strolling Players' camp. It's pretty confidential."

Dustfinger let a flickering flame dance upon his fingertips. "Silvertongue won't agree to doing anything so wretched, whatever that may be. He states that he strictly retired from hero-work." The Prince's face glowered in disappointment. His lips pursed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Dustfinger's curious mind still pondered about the Prince's thoughts. What could possibly be so secret? What in all worlds could be so dangerous? Answers flooded him for the second mental question. He shook his head to prevent his mind from drowning.

********************************

The small house that neighbored Ombra stood firm, not to anyone's surprise. Nests of fairies unevenly lined the roof. The tallest patches of grass leaned against the window panes, and a rough, narrow stone path was aligned towards the house. The exterior walls were made of easily seen cobblestone.

Both Dustfinger and the Black Prince stood gazing at the realm of the Bluejay and his family. The Prince stepped over some taller weeds and few paces closer to the home. "You coming, Dustfinger?" After gaining worldliness once more, Dustfinger followed his friend.

No sudden movement was made. Ever so slowly did the two walk towards the home. Dustfinger reached the house first and banged on the large door loudly, as the Prince had done. The sound of quickly paced footsteps came closer and closer to the door. It was not Silvertongue who opened the door, but Meggie, his daughter. The fourteen year old had her hair back with a braid on each side. "Hello, Dustfinger; Black Prince." She greeted while grinning.

"Hello Meggie." Dustfinger replied. Almost instantly he realized Doria wasn't with her. And it didn't look like she was doing much. Dustfinger wondered if she had any duties now that she was older and what they were. _I think too much now-a-days… _"Is your father home?" he asked while straightening his jacket. The Prince looked eagerly into the corners of the hall behind him. Of course, Meggie didn't go directly to her dad. A worried look spread across her face. "Why? Is there something wrong? Should I know?"

Dustfinger knew Meggie had always been like this, so loyal to her father. "As much as I'd love to tell you, the Prince is pretty focused on being completely secretive today." Dustfinger shot a quick, mischievous glare towards his companion.

Warily, Meggie nodded and disappeared from view. A somewhat muted call of 'Mo!' echoed throughout the house several times. Dustfinger tapped his foot in waiting and impatience. But it was only a short wait until the tall dark-haired Mortimer appeared where Meggie had just been. "Dustfinger! Black Prince!" he welcomed them warmly. "Morning, Bluejay." The Black Prince grinned. "Hello Silvertongue." Dustfinger's voice followed. Mortimer's smile faded a touch. "Please, I'm retired of that name. Please just call me Mortimer or Mo." He replied politely. The Prince nodded. "Alright, Mortimer."

"Alright, Silvertongue." Dustfinger said impishly after. Mo inhaled quickly, but released his anger and forgot the trouble in an exhale. "Anyway, what are you here for?" Dustfinger tilted his head curtly towards the Prince. "I must tell you tow something back at the Strolling Players's camp."

As the Prince explained to Silvertongue that it was too secret to tell anything at that very moment, Dustfinger noticed Meggie's blond hair edging behind a corner. "Silvertongue," The called turned. "You've got an eavesdropper." His gaze transported from the two men to down a long hallway. "Meggie…" he called. Meggie came from behind the wall. Her face was covered in determination. She put up a good argument when she could. "I should have a right to know!" she argued. Gwin clicked his teeth together out of boredom.

"I'm sorry Meggie. This is only for your father and Dustfinger to know." His black eyes looked towards Mortimer. "Unless, of course, your father wishes to tell you personally when he returns." He blue eyes beamed wider. Her steps led her to Mo's side. "Will you tell me Mo?"

A warm smile broke upon his face. "Of course, Meggie." He whispered. The girl's eyes blinked in acceptance before she turned. "Tell your mother where I've been and that I'll be back soon!" Meggie nodded. But before Mo could get the curt message, he had already been dragged out by both arms through the now shut door.

****************************

The sun had not reached its peak. The threesome was still heading towards the large camp. Not much converse was passed throughout the journey. Besides the fact that two of the eager minds wanted to know the reason that they were dragged from their average lives and were under secrecy, there wasn't anything to talk about. On short occasion, Dustfinger would give Silvertongue a wondering glance, though Silvertongue did not reply.

Only at long last did they reach the Strolling Player camp. It warmed Dustfinger's heart to see it again. Mo, not so much. Many small side scenes happened along the sides. Silently and incorruptibly, the Prince led them to a small fire pit. There wasn't any wood or anything of the sort to start the fire, but Dustfinger managed to raise a quiet flame from the pit. "Keep it quiet, Fire Dancer. The last thing we need is publicity." Dustfinger rolled his eyes and began to quiet the greedy fire with his hands. The Prince cast a wary glance around the camp. The inhabitants were too busy laughing and having a good time to pay any attention.

"Sit." he suggested while pointing his hand towards the fire pit. Though it wasn't the most comfortable of resting places, Mo had thought of worse. Dustfinger continued to keep the fire alive. "So, now you're going to tell us what's so secret?" Dustfinger said out of the black, but his eyes did not leave the fire. The Prince nodded. "I'm sorry it's so confidential, but I don't want to worry your family." Suspense dwelled in the air now from where the Prince had thrown it. Seemingly, the wind had whipped out the fire, but Fire Dancer's gaze belonged to the Black Prince now. So did the Bluejay's. "Now, this cannot reach from your knowledge to others." His head turned both ways for a final check, then a glace was shot to the Bluejay. His eyes could be read easily. _Except Meggie. _

"Because parts of it have not yet been confirmed." Rage filled Dustfinger. _Now some of it may not be true?! I left for this?_ He shushed his thoughts out for now and continued to listen intently. "What I've meant to tell you is…"

(TBC)


	4. Upcoming Devestation

Too much suspense filled the open air. It changed feelings as simply as autumn to winter. Mortimer was worried, but thought the Prince was being idiotic in his sense of mystery and secrecy. Dustfinger just wanted to blow the place and go back home. But the shadows just cast over their faces and they continued to listen to the Prince's story. "The reign of peace in the Inkworld has come to an end."

"What does it have to do with us?" Mortimer crossed his wrists, though still listening closely for more detail. Several birds waved and swooped overhead as if nothing was wrong. Dustfinger wanted to just follow them freely and not even get involved with the Prince's knowledge. The closest thing he could get to it though was walking to a nearby tree, leaning against it and lowering his head, as if he were lost in his own world. "I'll explain myself more thoroughly. You probably remember the infamous silvertongue, Orpheus, do you not?" Dustfinger spit in disgust, Mo's gaze just became wider, and his pupils seemed to cringe.

The Prince didn't wait for an answer. "There is a widely spread rumor, which with every passing moment is becoming more and more factual, that Orpheus has not yet deceased." A short undisrupted pause filled the small space between each sentence. "And beyond the lands that Inkweaver has created, lies a land of the unwritten. He found that land as he has wished, and carved something out of it." His hands seemed so tense with each gesture they made. The Prince's left hand was now clenched as if he held an orb in his palm.

"We have received signs that war is coming. We've gotten whispers of the rising recruits, stories of things that lie in the shadows…"

"Wait a second, you said 'we'. Who's 'we'?" Mortimer let his head sink lower as his voice did, trying not to get the attention of any of the people within the camp. "I have been in touch with some of Violante's soldiers. I have told no one yet of my own crew, besides you two, and won't until this is utterly confirmed--"

"Certainly, you aren't mystified by rumors anymore, Prince? Because if this is all based upon rumor, there is no need to get so serious about it." Dustfinger interrupted, his gaze still was lowered towards the forest floor. The Prince ignored his impatience to get home. "It's not only that, my dear friend. There have been some sightings. Especially of that tiny glass man he had. Just the other day, the people of Ombra were gathering while the little brute rampaged through the town shouting." Once more, it became quiet. Each of their minds waited for another to talk, but they were all refusing to speak up themselves. "You saw it yourself Prince?" Mortimer asked at last.

The figure nodded. "He was trying to burn into the walls with torch and flame, too. I couldn't see, but for a small man, he's got quite a voice." A howling wind spread through the camp, letting leaves twirl and fall everywhere. When each leaf fell, it made a crackling sound, which with the wind, sounded like a small scream. "So it's war then, and soon?" The Prince nodded. "To our misfortune."

*************

While this unknown discussion took place in the heart of the Strolling Player's camp, a small glass man and a larger shadow were perched at a corner in Ombra. "'You ready?" the glass man whispered. The larger man threw his hood over his head and unsheathed a short, but sharp blade that was raised closer to his torso. "As each following night." Ironstone began to run through the rugged paths of the streets, but unlike most times, was not screeching in battle cry. He leaped over various passing stones and tufts of plant-life, searching for some populated area of Ombra. The other man followed, silently and gravely. Ironstone's color faded with weariness of running, but he moved on. His pace slowed and he leaped behind another corner when he came upon a large horde of people. All of their chat and gossip was no matter to him.

Ironstone waited for the lurking shadow of his ally, then threw a small pebble into the way, to show that he was present. The cloaked and hooded figure knew on his master's orders he had to make this quick. Under his hood, he looked for a specific victim. If he had a target, it would make this easier. Like a wolf peering through a flock of sheep, he looked for an easy victim. One that looked weak, and not quite as fast. The closest thing he could get was a person who looked very early in manhood. His hair was coal black, and he seemed quite skinny. Also by the looks, it didn't look like he had a weapon of any sort on him.

The hooded man inhaled silently, and then curtly nodded towards the glass man. Out of the shadows the man jumped out, scattering the group that had just been there. Though the herd had split up quite far, his target was just what he expected, not as fast or strong. In several significant leaps, he was right at the man's back. The unsheathed blade pierced the victims back deeply and only once for him to stumble and collapse. The assassin took hold of his knife once more and brought the body back towards the area the group crowded around in only moments ago.

"Go now, Ironstone!" he hissed under his breath. The glass man eagerly searched through the limp man's pockets for anything useful. While he did that, the hooded figure took his knife and stabbed the other once more, to assure death. From the wound, his fingers touched the blood and made marks on the wall. At a distance, hoof steps and rages of voices could be heard. "Hurry up!" the glass man successfully reached several sacs of gold and, to their not so perfect judgment, had found a dull, but handy blade.

Quickly, the assassin marked the wall one last time. "The time is out." Leaving nothing but the body and the message, not even footprints, the two silhouettes disappeared into the shadows, and back towards the growing land far north. People of Ombra gathered around the wall that had been written on until no one else could possibly come. Violante's soldiers were among the front of the crowd with their eyes wide. Many murmurs spread throughout the crowd of all different questions and remarks. 'What is it talking about?' and 'Who wrote this?' were common questions, but the soldiers knew this is something they should be afraid of, though the others were confused and dumbstruck.

In boldly written blood, was a message for all of the Inkworld to know: _O__RPHEUS SHALL RISE ABOVE ALL_

_************************  
_

The sun was almost at highest peak. Almost time to leave, as promised. The Black Prince had explained nearly everything, and only one important aspect remained. "Now, only one more matter to settle." The Prince's dark eyes looked up again. "We need someone to lead us into battle."

Mortimer and Dustfinger exchanged glances, then set their glance upon the Prince in unison. "Why can't you lead?" Dustfinger asked. "I believe that more recruits will come if their leader is better known for victory. The Bluejay saved all of our necks last time from the Adderhead. Maybe he could save us from Orpheus?" Mortimer chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid that I am strictly retired from leadership roles." A disappointed flicker passed the Prince's eyes. "But if it's needed, I will fight as a regular man." The Prince nodded and sighed in acceptance, to have a few minutes later cast a hopeful glance at Dustfinger. "I'll give you five words Prince, to summarize how I feel about this." He leaned in closer towards the fire pit. "No, no, no and no."

"And why not, Fire Dancer!?" he exclaimed. "I'm no fighter! You know that!" he stood up and faced his back towards them. "There's got to be a better reason than that." _Great, now Silvertongue is on his side too?_ When Dustfinger turned back to them, his eyes blazed. "I've been absent from this world for ten years. Plus who knows how long once I got back!"

"No one said you'd have to leave the Inkworld, Dustfinger." Mortimer explained. "That doesn't mean I don't have a chance at death, Silvertongue." That silenced his friend almost instantly, even though it hadn't been shouted. All the information, distress and anger at all this change pulsed through his blood quickly. He didn't want to leave Roxane. He didn't want to risk losing her again. "And in those years I was gone, so much changed." He exhaled sharply. "Rosanna's death, Roxane's second husband and son, Cosimo's first death…… It pierces a person more than the most perfectly sharpened knife." Dustfinger let a small flame flicker on his fingertip. The reflection that beamed in his eyes seemed to calm him down a slight bit.

"Right now, friend, you probably have the best chances of saving us all." The Black Prince whispered. "At least we think so." Mortimer finished quietly. "Look, it just… puts me in a position where death is more likely to occur. And I really don't have the potential to lead anything." Long silence escaped again, leaving Dustfinger to step into the shadows again and listen to all the rustling sounds of nature. "Do you want to lead, Dustfinger?" Mortimer asked. Their friend had blended into the scenery for a while. They wondered if he was still there until a fire rose among a pile of leaves. "No." his voice said simply and lowly. "What if it was for Roxane, Brianna, and Gwin? Only them, not for us at all, if you wish it." A muffled grunt escaped Dustfinger's silhouette. "Maybe." He exhaled.

"Can you at least take it into consideration? The beneficial parts?" the Prince asked in favor. "If there are any." Dustfinger replied. "It's noon. You agreed that we can leave now."

"Just answer that, and we can leave." The two others rose to their feet and prepared to leave. Dustfinger hadn't answered, or spoken to them as they left. Quietly, they left the fire pit with Dustfinger in the lead and Mo and the Prince trailing behind him. They gave up the heart of convincing Dustfinger, and discussed who else could lead them. Mortimer was pretty sure that the Black Prince could lead them just fine. The Black Prince nodded unsure. "I suppose…" Dustfinger listened, but let their conversation continue uninterrupted. After the long distance of travel, it was time for them to take their separate paths home. _ Finally, _was the one thought that surrounded both Mo's and Dustfinger's minds. "So, we'll be meeting again soon, I assume?" Mortimer asked the Prince before he headed home once and for all.

He nodded. "Darkness is rising quickly and we'll need as much knowledge about this enemy as we can get." Mortimer didn't show any sign of happiness as he turned away from the duo, and towards his beloved home, his family and the girl who was waiting for the entire story outside their humble house.

"Sorry for the pressure, Fire Dancer." The Prince said to Dustfinger. Dustfinger half expected Gwin to come to his side, lost in the thoughts of reaching home, but of course, the motionless air stood in its place. "It's alright my friend." The breeze tugged at his coat like the guilt tugged at his heart, pulling his soul towards the direction of Roxane's farm. When Dustfinger was a few yards away, with his back turned, he said calmly, but regretfully, "I will take the role into consideration." Relief filled the Prince quickly, but he replied with nothing, leaving Dustfinger to reach home in peace, and for him to worry about the upcoming war alone.


End file.
